Pax wasn’t about to forget last night. He had never been a gambler, never anticipated having the feeling of gold dust sifting through his fingers. He hadn’t realized what he had…until he faced losing it.
Kansas strode ahead of him, moving silent and fast. There was no reason for him to play leader and trail blazer, when their route was clear. Past the valley between the two breasts of hills was the mesa plain where the kids had set up their campsite.
She was wearing khaki slacks this morning, hik-ing boots and a photographer’s pocket vest. Very L.L. Bean. Nothing like the vanilla-colored satin nightgown she’d worn the night before that had tipped the edge on his sanity. Even dressed in such totally out of character practical attire, though, her flame of hair, the swish in her be hind, was noticeably and unforgettably Kansas.
She crouched down suddenly, to examine a plant on the cactus strewn path. He hustled to catch up with her, feeling an instinctive and familiar alarm—she had a long-standing, impulsive habit of touching things she shouldn’t. And then he saw what she was studying.
She raised blinding-soft eyes to him. “This is datura, isn’t it? The way it grows in the wild?”
“Yeah.” The weed was easily identifiable, with big veiny leaves leading from thick stems, coarse in look and texture. “If you want to get technical, there’s a difference between common datura—also known as jimsonweed, or stinkweed—and sacred datura. What you’re looking at is sacred datura. It’s a perennial, where its rag-tail relatives are all annuals.”
“I read about that. I also read that our native people weren’t the only ones to use it for visions. It was used during World War II as a truth serum in prison camps.” She touched a leaf. “It’s really this easy to find, is it? A poison like this just grows everywhere?”
He nodded. “It’s a pretty common weed through the Southwest.”
“It’s ugly, Pax.”
Yeah, it was, yet her judgment of the plant was obviously affected by her feelings about her brother. There was no surprise that she’d come to associate the desert with ugly, frightening things. She’d never had a chance to see the beauty.
She lurched to her feet, dusting her hands on her fanny. The gesture was familiar, yet the expression on her face wasn’t. For the first time since he met her, Kansas looked calm and cool and so damn quiet that she was scaring him.
“Red…if you’re worried about what shape your brother is in, or what we might be walking into—”
“I’m not.”
She had to be. Kansas was Kansas. She’d never hidden a single emotion before. Every feeling was always out there, reflected in her face as clear as a mirror. He said carefully, “I didn’t want to upset you by talking about worst-case scenarios, but I’ve done rescues involving all kinds of medical emergencies before. I have a full pack of medical supplies, and I know how to use them. And if this group appears dangerous, we would make the obvious safe choice and split, hightail it back for some help from the law. I know you can’t really be feeling this calm. If you’re unsure about anything we’re going to do—”
She shook her head with a faint smile. “I know we’re facing all those unknowns. This could either go real tough or real easy, and we can’t know that ahead of time. But I’m fine. In fact, I couldn’t be feeling more calm or sure. There’s just a level where none of those unknowns make any difference, because my role in this is the same no matter what. I love my brother. Whatever strength or help he needs from me, I intend to be there for him. Really, I’m okay with this.”
Sometimes, Pax mused, she showed such insight that she blew him away. It wasn’t the first time he’d glimpsed the strength of cement beneath the whimsical, ethereal exterior. Yet he had a sudden, brief leaden feeling. Kansas wasn’t exactly pushing him away, but an invisible distance was there. She wasn’t asking for his help, not on this. She didn’t need him.
He banished that sinking feeling—this was no time to deal with it. One turn past the sheltering shade of the hills, and there was the flat-plained mesa.
Kansas sucked in her breath when she saw the scene. A hundred yards away, smoke drifted from the night’s ashes of a fire. A dozen pup tents and old army tents were arranged like a mini city around a central circle of stones. A few scruffy horses were tied on a lead line in the distance. The place was as quiet as a cemetery. There wasn’t a sign of life stirring this early.
They dropped their packs and left them. Pax strode ahead, aiming for the largest tent, catching details from his peripheral vision. There were clothes strewn around. Shoes. Canned food spill ing from boxes and packs. Near the fire pit, a slab of limestone was set up like an altar with burned-down candles laying in cold pools of wax. His jaw instinctively tightened.
If the biggest tent housed the head honcho, the boy certainly wasn’t much. When Pax opened the flap, yellow desert sun shined like a shock into the eyes of a scrawny, unkempt kid who appeared to be naked. “What the—who are you?”
“I’m Dr. Moore and I’m looking for Case Walker. Which tent is he in?”
“What you want with him, man?”
“Just to talk with him. His sister is with me. And we can go from tent to tent and find him ourselves, but there doesn’t seem any point in waking everyone up. He’s the only one we’re looking for.”
The kid peered out far enough to glance at Kansas, then back at Pax. “Hey, we ain’t doing nothing, man. Nothing that’s anybody’s business. We’re not bothering anybody out here.”
“I didn’t say you were. Your private business is nothing to me. All I want is to talk with Case.” The boy seemed to think about that, then shrugged and motioned to one of the tents in the middle of the camp. “Far as I know, he sacked out in there last night.”
It was that easy. There were no problems, no trouble—no one even stirred once the head honcho reclosed the flap on his tent with a yawn and settled down again. And Case was there. Exactly where the boy told them.
Only nothing, from that minute on, was easy for Kansas. Red headed for the sun-worn, faded pup tent at about the speed of light. When she knelt down and pushed at the screen flap, Pax knew she’d identified her brother, because her face drained of color.
“Kansas? It’s really you? How can you be here…how’d you find me…what…?”
The last time Pax saw the boy, Case had a been a brawny-shouldered, hefty 200 pounds, with a mischievous devil in his eyes and the grin of a lady charmer. Maybe his hair had been combed last week. He’d easily lost twenty pounds. His eyes were dull, his cheeks hollow, and his whole expression looked disoriented and confused.
“Kansas,” he said again, and though she answered him—and kept answering him—Case couldn’t seem to stop repeating her name.
Kansas’s voice turned as soothing and soft as butter, nothing to indicate she was distressed in any way. “When’s the last time you had something to eat, Tiger?”
“I dunno.”
“Well, we’re gonna take care of that. I want you to come with me, okay? We’ll leave your stuff, worry about all that later. Can you stand up?”
Case crawled out of the tent, but he stood up like a seaman who hadn’t seen land in months, unsteady on his feet. The bright sunlight made him cringe, but he kept looking at her, saying “Kansas,” as if her name was an anchor and he had no other.
“Yeah, Tiger. It’s me. And I’ve brought a good friend to help us. Everything’s going to be okay. All you have to do is lean on me.” To Pax, she mouthed the word “hospital.” He nodded.
It was a long trek back to the Explorer. Pax had been more frustrated. He just couldn’t remember when. He’d done rescue missions before, had been prepared to carry or handle Case, no matter what was required or what condition the boy was in. He also had years of experience soothing wild animals and calming frightened people, but Case—there was no way that boy was turning to anyone but his sister.
Kansas talked nonsense to him the whole hike out, her arm around Case’s waist, supporting a grown man who was damn
near twice her size. One minute Case was solid, the next he was hallucinating and imagining devils in every cactus, every cloud. He had an insatiable thirst. They stopped a dozen times, trying to pour water down him and coax in a little food.
Pax had seen Kansas claim an imminent heart attack over a tarantula, heard her screech bloody murder at the mere look of a gila monster. Yet when she had an outstandingly fine reason to really fall apart, her touch stayed calm, her voice stayed cool and no trace of stress even crossed her expression.
Once, he’d believed she was the most vulnerable woman he’d ever met.
He still believed that.
It had just taken him forever to understand that Kansas was also strong. His whole life, Pax had valued strength as a means of protecting himself—and others. But his Red had a core of emotional strength different than he’d ever defined the quality before. He wanted to think about that, wanted to examine how somehow she’d squeejawed and changed his whole understanding of what real strength was.
But there was no time, right then, to do anything but tackle the problem at hand. Handling Case was a full-time job, mentally and physically, even after they’d finally gotten him home and into the clinic in Sierra Vista. Even after Dr. Lowrey finished his examination and met up with them in the waiting room.
“Long term, he should have no trouble regaining his physical health. There’s no sign of any permanent damage to his organs, which was obviously our first worry. And some of his physical problems will improve in a matter of days. He’s suffering more from exhaustion and dehydration than anything else.”
“What about mentally?” Kansas asked quietly.
The doctor had gentle ways and old, tired eyes. “Mentally he’s confused. Your brother doesn’t seem to be aware that he’s been under the influence of a drug. He says he’s never touched anything but some natural herbs.” Dr. Lowrey sighed. “This is the second case I’ve handled this year involving datura. Unlike peyote, I don’t think you need to fear an addiction in the same sense as a narcotic. But any use of this type of hallucinogen can have emotional as well as physical effects. Damage to his heart was the first fear, but his heart is fine. He needs rest, food, care…and time. He’s essentially been taking a poison, whether he understood that or not.”
They only talked for a few more minutes after the doctor left, and then Kansas walked down the hall with him. Once she called her parents and filled them in, she planned to stay overnight in the room with Case. For as long as her brother was confused, she wasn’t about to leave him. Pax understood why she wanted to stay, but he felt a sudden emptiness. He didn’t want to leave her alone in that stark, antiseptic hall. He didn’t want to leave her at all.
But they’d put plans in motion for him, too. “All right. I’m on my way to track down the sheriff,” he told her.
“Good. I can hardly stand to think of the rest of those kids being in that camp even one more night. You make sure he listens, Pax.”
“I will…and I’ll bring you some stuff tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” She grinned. “By tomorrow morning I’ll be awfully desperate for a toothbrush.” She raised up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, you. For everything. You never once had to help me, Doc, but from the very beginning you came through like a white knight.”
She was only saying good-night, not dismissing him. It had been an unbearably long and exhausting day, and she was weaving on her feet. There was no reason for him to stay; she didn’t need him and he had things to do—the sheriff to see, animals to feed and care for. But it felt like goodbye, that kiss. It felt like a gut-sharp reminder that Kansas had no reason, once Case recovered enough to be discharged from the clinic, to stay in Arizona.
To stay with him.
Eleven
Kansas lingered at the airport until the plane disappeared from sight. Well, it was done. Her brother was winging home, and their parents were set up to meet his flight in Minneapolis. Case was a long way from running marathons, but her mom, typically, had turned rock solid the minute she had the complete story on Case’s health condition. Her brother couldn’t be in better hands.
Kansas headed for her rental car, feeling as fidgety and restless as a Mexican jumping bean. Case was being taken care of. She wasn’t so sure about herself.
She drove straight to a grocery store with the goal of picking up empty boxes. It was too soon to buy her own plane ticket home to Minnesota. Case’s belongings needed to be packed and sent home, his bills taken care of and his bank ac count closed, then something done with the land lord about his rental place.
If she worked like a dog, she figured the chores could probably get done in a day. If she stretched them out, it could possibly take three. There was no way she could make them last a decade, yet the minute she thought about leaving, her pulse started thumping like an agitated battery gone berserk.
She’d already told herself the obvious: you couldn’t lose a man that you’d never won. In venting excuses to stay were never going to change the bottom line. She’d offered Pax her heart every which way she knew how. Either her brand of love wasn’t enough, or Pax simply didn’t want it.
Yet an hour later, when she zoomed in the driveway with a back seat and trunkful of empty packing boxes, Pax was there. Waiting for her. Instead of his Explorer, he’d driven a battered old Jeep that she hadn’t seen before. He was leaning against the side, his hands slugged into his pockets, his lean face taking a battering from the midday desert sun.
He sprang forward to help her carry the packing boxes into the house. “I just stopped by to tell you what happened. The sheriff organized a whole crew—parents, medics, local ranchers, the forest rangers. The kids have been cleared out of there.”
“Thank heavens.” As soon as Pax pushed open the door, she dropped an armload of boxes onto the living room floor. “I don’t know if any of those kids realized what they were getting into. Case wasn’t looking for drugs. Or trouble. He was looking for meaning. And I couldn’t stop thinking that was possibly how some of these religious cults start—from some real innocent and idealistic motivations, simply misinterpreted and taken too far.” She shook her head. “I’m relieved that the sheriff intervened before it went any farther. And no one would have taken action if you hadn’t become involved, Doc.”
“Yeah, well…the whole community should have paid attention to what was happening long before this.”
It was so typical of Pax to take responsibility but no credit, but just then she didn’t want to argue with him. She wanted to savor the look of him. No different than always, he was a sun-browned, strong warrior, a mountain of an unforgettable man…yet for the first time since she’d known him, he was nervously, uneasily shifting on his feet.
“I can see you have packing and things to do for your brother yet. I should have called before stopping by.”
“That’s okay.”
“I don’t suppose you could spare a little time? Like a few hours?”
“Sure.” She lifted her eyebrows.
Pax abruptly locked in his heels and looked stubborn. “Now, I know you think of the desert as a nightmare. I know you think you hate it. But, Red…you’ve been worried about your brother the whole time you were here. And before you go back home, well, I’d just like to show you my desert. So you don’t leave thinking there’s nothing to love in this part of the country.”
Oh Pax, she thought fiercely. I already found more to love here than I can possibly handle. But she just said, “I can go right now, if you want.”
Miles back, Pax turned off the blacktop and aimed down the two-track gravel road. Although his Explorer was tough, it couldn’t compete with his old, open Jeep in true rough country, and he knew exactly where he wanted to take her. She’d seen datura and gila monsters. She’d seen the ugly, bleak, frightening side of the desert—but she’d never seen the beauty.
Just as the hummingbird migration in Ramsey Canyon only lasted a short time, his desert was only in bloom for the blink of an eye. Th
at time was now or never—but a man had to know exactly what he was looking for. The Arizona Rainbow was only one of the cacti blossoming right now, with big, deep pink flowers. Other plants, like the Queen of the Night, looked like dead scrub during the day, yet its bloom was a huge eight inches in breadth with an exquisite fragrance at nighttime. The Santa Rita prickly pear had delicate lemon yellow flowers.
The desert blossoms were all fragile, all fleeting, all impossibly vulnerable—like Kansas, he thought. A vice gripped his heart at the idea of her leaving. He had the despairing feeling it would be like losing all his sunshine. She’d opened doors in his life that had been locked for years. He hadn’t once shared back—not the way she did. Somehow he had to show her how much she’d changed his life, and he had no idea how to do that, except by taking her somewhere that deeply, privately mattered to him.
Abruptly he picked up a strange, hot metallic smell. Within seconds, he caught a plume of smoke coming from under the Jeep’s hood. He quickly scanned the gauges.
“What’s wrong?” Kansas asked.
There should be nothing wrong. In this part of the country, a man took care of his vehicles the way a cowboy took care of his horse. Neither his Explorer nor his Jeep had ever been neglected—yet the temperature gauge suddenly glared red. Pax cut the engine and coasted to a stop with his forehead creased in an exasperated scowl. “Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried.”
“Doesn’t matter what it is. I’ll handle it. There’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“I couldn’t be less worried,” she repeated amiably.
Well, he sure was. His gaze swept the landscape—there was nothing around, no houses, no people, no cars anywhere in sight. Hell, that was why he’d wanted to take her here—the spot was a secluded, private haven, a secret he’d wanted to share only with her.
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